National Treasure: The Curse of the Black Pearl
by elvenrarehunter
Summary: Title in the works Four dolls, four recipients, one magic woman, and a whole lot of trouble. Jack, Will, Norrington, and Elizabeth find themselves in present day D.C. where they meet some interesting characters who think the same about them.R&RNo Flames


**National Treasure: The Curse of the Black Pearl **

_Author__: elvenrarehunter_

_Characters__: Ian, Ben, Abigail, Riley, Jack, Elizabeth, James, Will_

_Format: Multi-chapter_

_Genres__: Action/Adventure, X-over, Romance_

_Warnings: __inevitable OOC-ness, possible swearing_

_Comments__: This was a challenge to me by WalkingInMemphis and I never back down from an intriguing challenge. This was to write a Pirates/National Treasure crossover. I hope this turns out alright. Feedback much appreciated. No flames please, but concrit welcomed and appreciated._

_Special Thanks: Special thanks to WalkingInMemphis, who not only issued the challenge, but betaed this chapter for me and sent back the feedback on my revisions. You're awesome! Go check out her stories!_

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Prologue

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The bungalow was quiet in the flickering light cast by dozens of candles. The empty cages that hung from the ceiling swung back and forth in the breeze coming through the makeshift window. The glass jars with assorted The only sound was a tuneless humming coming from deep within the hut in a dimly lit room. Sitting on a small bed was a woman, her skin a rich brown and her hair a scraggly black. When she smiled, her mouth revealed blackened teeth. She held in her hand a small doll. 

The doll was dressed in the uniform of a British Naval officer, down to the hat and weaponry. The doll's mouth was painted in a thin line. Sitting on the small table near her bed were three other dolls. One was a woman dressed elegantly in a white dress with gold trim. A miniature veil fell over her golden curls. The one next to that had been formed with a rather slight build for a man, but he too was dressed elegantly. His fine blue coat was trimmed in gold as well. The last had been knocked over and now lay prone on the table. It was garbed in tattered and weatherworn fabrics. Its cock-eyed hat concealed half of the doll's face in its shadow. A large red bandanna was tied around its forehead.

The woman ran a finger down the front of the doll in her hand absently. Her humming became softer until it eventually died out entirely. She closed her eyes and sighed. This had to be done. Fate's hand was guiding her, and who was she to refuse destiny? She placed the doll on her side table, pulling a small knife out from a drawer. She pressed the dagger to her thumb, gasping inaudibly as she drew a thin line from which trickled a few droplets of blood. She picked up the first doll and let a drop of blood fall onto the chest.

"Begun by blood," she began in a thick accent, replacing the doll on the table and taking another. "By blood undone." She let a drop of blood fall on that doll's chest as well. She picked up the third. "Fate gives you da chance for redemption." She picked up the last doll. "Da crimes in ya past may be forgiven only if ya prove yaself." She looked at each of the dolls before she got up and searched for a basket. Pulling a fraying basket from one of the far corners of the hut, she returned and placed each doll in the basket. She sauntered down the stairs in front of her hut and boarded the tiny, ramshackle boat that waited there. She rowed until she reached the mouth of the river. Securing her boat on the shore, she picked her way across the landscape until she came across the jagged edge of a low dune. The warm sand enveloped the woman's toes as it caught the last rays of the setting sun. Her dark skin contrasted with the fine sand. She stepped forward towards the water, sending the grains skittering down the side of the dune as she moved forward. She looked at the white capped waves of the rolling sea. She glanced at the sky briefly before she overturned the basket, letting the dolls fall into the churning water. She watched until they disappeared from her sight, swallowed by the hungry waves. She watched the waves lap against the side of the cliff and bowed her head in something akin to prayer.

* * *

The torches flickered and cast eerie shadows on the walls of the manmade cavern. Two men, Ian Howe and a man called Powell stood on a primitive yet completely functional elevator. Ian had a gun drawn and leveled at Ben Gates, his former business partner and present rival. His eyes shone with passionate determination and fury. He had come thus far and he was not about to fail now. 

"The next clue, Gates," he growled, his voice dangerous. Ben sighed, as if he had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die here.

"The lantern," Ben's father, Patrick Gates, said quickly as Ian's finger tensed on the trigger. He was concerned the younger man might do something rash. Ian's gaze turned on him.

"What does it mean?" he asked. Ben sighed again.

"Boston," he said. "It means Boston." Patrick cleared his throat.

"You see, they hung a lantern to signal Paul Revere how the British were coming. One if by land, two if by sea. One lantern," the elder Gates explained. Ian smiled viciously.

"Thank you," He muttered, putting the gun away and nodding to Powell, who was standing next to him near the pulley contraption. The elevator began to rise and Riley, Ben's partner in crime and personal tech genius, began shouting at Ian.

"Hey! You can't just leave us down here," he pleaded, hoping to appeal to the more rational side of the man standing above them. Ian shrugged.

"Care to test that theory?" Ian asked. Riley fell silent.

"And if we lied?" Patrick asked. Ian turned to him.

"Did you now?" he asked, his tone once again dangerous as he reached for his gun.

"What if you find another clue?" Ben asked, trying to defuse the already volatile situation. Ian's mouth curled into a sneer.

"I'll know right where to find you," he snarled before ascending all the way up. The cries of his former associates fell on deaf ears. Riley, ever the pessimist, was the first to stop shouting. Instead, he stood in shock, blurting out a morbid epiphany.

"We're all going to die," he muttered sadly. Ben turned when he couldn't see the elevator anymore and rushed past Riley.

"It's going to be okay Riley. I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said, going back down the tunnel leading to the circular room they had just exited.

"It's okay kiddo," Patrick Gates said, laying a hand on Riley's shoulder as he followed his son. Abigail, the blonde woman from the Archives with whom Ben had made a special connection, followed after them quickly. She looked confused.

"Alright boys, what's going on?" she asked as Ben and Patrick scoured the walls. "The British came by sea. It was two lanterns, not one." Patrick looked up at her, pausing in his work for only a moment before continuing to search.

"Ian needed another clue, so we gave it to him," he replied simply.

"It was fake. It was a fake clue!" Riley said, realizing what they had done. Ben paused for a moment in front of a large stone tablet with a faded design.

"The all-seeing eye. Through the all seeing eye," he muttered to himself. Riley was talking in the background, but Ben heard nothing as he thought.

"That means by the time Ian figures it out, we'll still be trapped here and he'll shoot us then," he said, following his thought train until it was brutally derailed. "Either way we're going to die." Ben turned to his friend.

"Nobody's going to die. There is another way out," Ben said. Everyone looked at him.

"Where?" Riley asked. Ben pressed down on a switch and a blast of stale air came through the newfound opening. Ben smiled.

"Through the treasure room," he announced dramatically, stepping forward and into the hole, holding his torch aloft. He was sure that there was something here for them. But his face fell as he entered the room. It was empty.

"Looks like someone got here first," Riley remarked. Abigail shot him an exasperated glare. Ben had worked so hard for all of this and yet it had all been dashed.

"I'm sorry Ben," she said, though she knew that would never cover it. She knew he had searched since he was a young child for this treasure. He learned everything he could that might be of some use to the hunt, and yet here he stood, empty-handed in a bare room. No, sorry wouldn't even begin to cover it.

"It's gone," Ben said, in shock.

"Listen Ben," Patrick said.

"It may have even been gone before Charles Carroll told the story to Thomas Gates," Ben said with a saddening realization.

"It doesn't matter," Patrick assured him.

"I know, because you were right," Ben said. _Ouch _thought Patrick.

"No, I wasn't right," Patrick admitted. Ben looked at his father, surprised. This was the first time in a long time he had heard his father admit that he was wrong. "This room is real Ben. And that means the treasure is real. We're in the company of some of the most brilliant minds in history because you found what they left behind for you to find and understood the meaning of it. You did it Ben. For all of us. Your grandfather, and all of us. And I've never been so happy to be proven wrong." Ben shook his head.

"I just really thought I was going to find the treasure," he said dejectedly. Patrick nodded.

"Okay, then we just keep looking for it," he proposed.

"I'm in," Abigail chimed.

"Okay," Ben agreed. Riley scoffed.

"Not to be Johnny rain cloud, but that's not going to happen. Because as far as I can see, we're still trapped down here," Riley said bleakly. The others were brought crashing back into reality. "Ok, Ben, where's this other way out?" Riley asked, reminding Ben of his thought process from beforehand. Ben sighed.

"Well that's it, it doesn't make any sense. The first thing the builders would have done after getting down here was cut a secondary shaft back out for air…incase of cave ins…" Ben said, trailing off as he looked at an oddly shaped indentation in the wall. He fingered the pipe in his pocket. "Could it really be that simple? The secret lies with Charlotte." He placed the pipe into the indentation. Another blast of stale air entered the room and Ben walked forward, basking in the gold glow reflecting the torchlight. The rest followed him uncertainly. Statues rose up around them like ancient sentries, guarding the entrance to the treasure cavern. Shelves lined the sides of the chamber, filled to the brim with scrolls and other papyrus records. Around them small gold coins littered the floor, creating a shining path deeper amidst the piles of treasure. Abigail stepped forward and fingered the scrolls on the shelf to her left.

"Scrolls from the Library of Alexandria. Could this be possible?" Abigail breathed, fingering the ancient papyrus. Riley stood next to a large statue.

"That's a big, bluish-green man, with a strange looking goatee. I'm guessing that's significant," he mused tiredly, before hugging the statue. Ben noticed a stone structure which had a black powder in it. He picked it up and fingered it, bringing back memories of the Charlotte. Gunpowder. He dropped the powder back into the stone trough and placed his torch into the powder. He watched as the flame traveled down through the room, revealing thousands upon thousands of treasures.

"Dad!" Ben said. Everyone let out a cheer. They had found what they were looking for. Their journey had not been in vain. Ben's childhood dreams had been fulfilled and Abigail, Riley, and Ben's father had been there to witness it. Never had there been such a glow in Ben's eyes. Abigail looked around and her eyes fell on something that seemed out of place. On top of some Ancient Egyptian relics, she noticed four dolls. She reached forward and picked up one that seemed to be clothed in a naval uniform. She ran a finger over the course, weatherworn fabric before Ben laid a hand on her shoulder.

"What've you got there?" he asked, picking up the doll of the young man who seemed to be dressed for a special occasion of sorts. A wedding perhaps?

"Dolls," she said. "I wonder how they got here." Ben shrugged.

"Well, they look as if they might be from the 1700s or thereabouts. The style of clothing is unique to the time period, but the fabric is wrong. It should be made of wool or silk. This is made of heavy cotton, like from a ship's sail." Ben noted. "Perhaps when England was building up her colonies, one of the freemasons brought them over and left them here? I don't know what significance they have, but that seems like the most plausible explanation."

"We should each take one," she said. Ben looked at her questioningly. "We've all been through this together and I think that it would be a way to remember the journey." Ben though for a moment before nodding. "Riley!" Abigail yelled. Riley bounded over, afraid he had done something wrong. Abigail could be rather frightening. "Take one of these."

"Why?"

"Sentimental reasons, Riley, sentimental reasons," she said. Riley picked up the doll of the girl. The other doll sat there, his cockeyed hat on his head. They thought for a moment.

"Ian should get one," Ben said.

"Why?!" Riley protested.

"It's only right," Abigail admitted after an internal struggle.

"Why? The man just tried to kill us! Why not give one to your dad?" Riley suggested.

"Besides," Ben began, "Ian wanted the treasure just like the rest of us, even if it wasn't for the right reasons," he said. Riley sighed and conceded. He wasn't going to win against this double-team effort. Ben nodded, satisfied with his verdict, and picked up the other doll. He would send it to Ian once they got topside. With that, they left up the stairs into the church. Nobody knew that high above, a shooting star blazed across the sky.

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_So why don't you drop a line for me and lemme know if I should continue. No flames please. Concrit welcomed and appreciated. gives cookies_


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